father

Reality TV star Tom Sandoval’s former girlfriend Victoria Lee Robinson has filed a dueling restraining order after she was arrested in June following an altercation that involved her father being pushed into a lit fire pit.

In the petition, filed Thursday in a Los Angeles court, Robinson claims that over the course of the former couple’s 2.5-year relationship, the former “Vanderpump Rules” star “routinely physically and verbally abused” her.

According to court documents reviewed by The Times, the model alleges that Sandoval shoved her down a flight of stairs in his home, pushed her to the ground at a hotel in Nashville, and attacked her and her father on June 3.

On Monday, a Los Angeles Superior Court judge denied Victoria Robinson’s request for the temporary domestic violence restraining order because Sandoval’s existing temporary restraining order requires a hearing (which was set for July 16) before Robinson’s could be granted.

Representatives for Sandoval told The Times in a statement, “It’s no surprise that Victoria’s request for a restraining order was immediately denied.”

Sandoval, known for the Scandoval cheating scandal that erupted on the hit Bravo series “Vanderpump Rules” in 2023, filed a temporary restraining order against Robinson and her father J. Will Robinson on June 25. In Sandoval’s petition, he claimed that since the two became a couple in February 2024, Victoria Robinson has been violent and attacked him physically.

Sandoval was granted a temporary restraining order which required Robinson and her father to vacate the Los Angeles rental the three had shared. According to Sandoval, he’d left the house and stayed in hotels and with friends following the June 3 incident.

“This is my home. We are both on the lease, but I paid the first month’s rent and deposit, surprised him with the keys and virtually every item in it is mine,” Victoria Robinson said in a statement shared with The Times. “I have filed my own legal action because I have my own account of what happened and it’s very different from what has been said publicly.”

Robinson said that while her father has been under media scrutiny, he was trying to protect her.

“My relationship with Tom has already controlled the past two years of my life,” she said. “I cannot allow a false narrative to control my future.”

The altercation involving Sandoval, Robinson and her father happened in the early morning hours after the couple returned home from a night out at a bar, according to both accounts.

In a video of the June 3 incident, obtained by TMZ, Robinson and her father are seen sitting next to a lit fire pit on the patio when Sandoval and the elder Robinson begin arguing. Sandoval is heard yelling at Will Robinson before he asks his girlfriend if she is recording and approaches her. Will Robinson stands up and wraps his arms around Sandoval, seemingly to get him to back away from Victoria Robinson. Sandoval turns and pushes Will Robinson, who falls backward into the lit fire pit.

After Will Robinson gets back up, he rushes after Sandoval into the home while Victoria Robinson screams for the men to stop.

According to Victoria Robinson’s petition, when Sandoval noticed she was recording his exchange with her father, he twisted her arm while trying to gain control of her phone.

Will Robinson allegedly suffered a thumb fracture and elbow and back injuries.

Victoria Robinson was arrested after police responded on June 3 and released on bond the same day. On June 4, Sandoval returned to their L.A. house to collect his things and Victoria Robinson called police, who escorted Sandoval from the home, according to the filing.

The Los Angeles Police Department declined to comment on the reason for Robinson’s arrest.

Will Robinson told TMZ last month, “The DA did not file the case for a reason. I lifted Tom off of my daughter because he was overpowering and twisting her arm and trying to take her phone aggressively after yelling at us in a very aggressive and threatening manner.”

“This is my daughter’s home and we just want Tom as far away from us as possible and to keep his lies and drunken abuse away,” Robinson said.

This isn’t the first time their fights have turned physical, according to both accounts. Victoria Robinson‘s petition claims that in August 2025, Sandoval shoved her down their hardwood stairs and she suffered knee injuries. She said she reported the incident to police but ultimately recanted her statements to protect Sandoval from being arrested. “In hindsight, I deeply regret this decision,” reads the suit.

Weeks before the fire pit incident, Robinson alleges that during a trip to Nashville to visit her grandfather who was in hospice care and has since died, Sandoval pushed her to the floor of their hotel and locked her out of their shared room.

“During their 2½-year relationship, Tom has made it clear he never physically harmed Victoria,” representatives for Sandoval said. “Instead, he lived in fear of her repeated physical attacks and unpredictable behavior. He will show he was the victim of ongoing physical and emotional abuse, and has substantial evidence documenting what he endured, which will be presented through the legal process.”

At first, Jesus did not believe it was possible, but then he heard his father shouting out from the rubble, saying: “Don’t leave me here.”

“I said, ‘Trust me: Stay calm. Keep the kids calm over there. I’m not leaving here without you,'” Jesus recalled.

Jose had been trapped for more than an hour by that point, unsure of his fate. He and his two younger sons had survived the collapse with relatively minor injuries, but dangers remained. The debris could still shift and crush them.

“The first thing I thought of was my children. I had the little one right here,” Jose recalled, lifting his hands to his chest. “And I still had the other one. He was right next to me but buried. I couldn’t see his face; I could only see one foot and one hand.”

Still, Jose put on a brave face for his boys. A friendly voice had pierced the rubble: Jesus’s friend, the firefighter.

He had been shouting for survivors. He had also brought Jesus’s old firefighting equipment to the site.

After finding out his father and brothers were alive, Jesus began desperately trying to get them out. But he realised he would have to wait until the next day for the sun to come up and, crucially, to get his hands on a jackhammer that could drill through the floors of rubble separating him from his family.

Finally, the next morning, a specialist squad from the police arrived with the gear they needed to carry out the rescue.

With the help of his firefighting team from La Guaira, who showed up to help their old comrade, Jesus was able to pull his father and two younger brothers from the rubble at about 3:30pm on June 25, more than 20 hours after the earthquakes.

He quickly swept Diego and Santiago into his arms.

“When I saw them, I hugged them, gave them a kiss, and said, ‘I love you, brother,'” Jesus recalled. “Then I stepped away for a moment and started crying.”

Jose is still shaken from the experience, which has changed his life forever. “I am someone who will be grateful for the rest of my life that I was given this opportunity. Not just me, but my two young children.”

Cut to a seedy alley behind a Chinese restaurant in Rome: A dozen mobsters menace a slight young man who suddenly pulls out a pair of nunchucks. He swings the traditional stick-and-chain weapons and makes quick work of his enemies, who fall one by one, groaning in pain.

The comedic, legendary action scene is from the 1972 film “The Way of the Dragon,” written, directed and starring Bruce Lee. The martial arts star was a trailblazer, allowing Asian Americans to see themselves represented in a strong, positive light on-screen.

And now he has secured a place in California history, becoming the first Chinese American in state history to have a day designated in his honor.

Lee was born in 1940 in San Francisco. His mother was of European descent and his father was a Cantonese opera star who was on tour in the city, affording his son birthright citizenship.

Lee grew up in Hong Kong, where he followed his father’s path as a performer, acting in more than a dozen films as a child and studying the close-quarters southern Chinese martial art Wing Chun.

On May 17, 1959, an 18-year-old Lee returned to San Francisco and eventually made his way to Hollywood. He went on to influence an industry that was at the time bereft of Asian American talent, and helped to popularize the genre of martial arts films and ignite Western interest in Hong Kong action cinema.

In recognition of his contributions, state Assemblymember Matt Haney (D-San Francisco) introduced a bill designating May 17 as “Bruce Lee Day” in California. The bill, signed into law Tuesday by Gov. Gavin Newsom, encourages schools and communities to honor Lee’s life and cultural impact.

Haney has described Lee as a “symbol of pride, resilience and possibility for generations who rarely saw themselves reflected with strength and dignity.”

Lee, who saw himself not only as an actor but also as a poet and philosopher, encountered repeated barriers. Up for the main role in the 1970s television series “Kung Fu,” for example, he was rejected in favor of white actor David Carradine.

In 2020, filmmaker Bao Nguyen sought to show how Lee dispelled anti-Asian sentiment and long-held stereotypes of emasculated Asian men in his ESPN documentary “Be Water.”

“The Asian male was the face of the enemy to many Americans,” Nguyen told The Times in 2020. “It was this vicious cycle of society reflecting media and culture, and media and culture reflecting society. There had to be some kind of intervention there and Bruce, in a way, was that intervention. He was the hero that we hadn’t seen before.”

Lee learned much about the systemic oppression that Black Americans faced from his first student, Jesse Glover, who had been a victim of police brutality.

And scholars have pointed out that, although his films had far-from-perfect politics, they touched on themes of fighting oppression. The 1971 movie “The Big Boss” showed Lee battling alongside laborers. “Fist of Fury” saw him opposing Japanese colonialism and discrimination.

Lee died young in 1973, at age 32 — before he was able to witness the full extent of his stardom. He died just one month before the release of “Enter the Dragon,” which was a box-office sensation and is considered a masterpiece of martial arts filmmaking.

It’s the 250th birthday of the United States of America and how better to celebrate than with a big-screen hagiography of America’s first president, George Washington? “Young Washington” arrives in theaters just in time for the Fourth of July with a chiseled, hot young actor in the lead role and the sheen of a prestige HBO drama, though the result isn’t really big-screen spectacle or appointment television. It feels more like something to be watched on the AV rig in a middle school social studies class. At least there won’t be a quiz at the end.

But there could be, because the plot of “Young Washington” plays out with all the thrill of a textbook chapter. It takes place mostly around 1753-55, at the advent of the French and Indian War. We open in medias res when the 23-year-old Col. Washington (William Franklyn-Miller) lurches from a dysentery-riddled nap directly into battle in the Pennsylvania woods, his battalion on the back foot, surrounded by gore and gunpowder. Another officer describes how dire the situation is while George ponders saving his men and asks, “What could be worth the risk?” Washington steels his gaze and we cut to black. You can almost hear the eagles scream, guitars riff and engines rev.

“Young Washington” is produced and distributed by Angel Studios, the faith-based movie studio that churns out films based on true stories that either feature freak accidents, strange illnesses or, more recently, unique stories from the past in which faith in God is a factor. Apparently, our nation’s founding also falls under this umbrella.

The film is directed by Jon Erwin, one of the in-house Angel Studios mainstays, who also helmed “Jesus Revolution,” “I Still Believe” and “I Can Only Imagine.” Erwin gives the whole project a kind of gritty, visceral approach — very “Game of Thrones” in red coats. It’s violent, muddy, the contrast is high and too many drone shots soar over the forest treetops.

Though it opens with a bang, this 1755 battle framing device gives way to the George origin story, starting with his father’s death 12 years earlier, when the 11-year-old George is bereft that he’ll have to sacrifice his education in order to become a tenant farmer and provide for his family including his mother, Mary (Mary-Louise Parker, doing a bizarre accent).

His older half-brother Lawrence (John Foss) takes him under his wing and teaches him, and the young George grows into a smart, bright, ambitious young man, whose dreams of becoming a British officer are dashed because he doesn’t have formal education, a fortuitous marriage or his own land. But he’s bootstrapped himself into intelligence and with savvy networking and know-how, he becomes indispensable to the British, volunteering as a major to survey land and negotiate treaties with the Native tribes and French army. It’s all a bunch of politicking and petty disputes until it escalates into all-out war thanks to an ill-advised ambush.

Sir Ben Kingsley, Kelsey Grammar (who starred in “Jesus Revolution”) and Andy Serkis play the British officers who begrudgingly, at times, believe in George and his capabilities, though a lot of the film is about a young man getting rebuffed by snobbish British officers.

He’s the kind of character who always makes the noble choice, does and says what’s right, and sees everyone as equals (including enslaved African men and Native American allies). He inspires his brother and others that the world can change and takes inspiration from his mother, who encourages him to continue his path and do it as God’s servant.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t make for a character that’s in any way complex or interesting at all. Franklyn-Miller is certainly pretty, serving as a fine face for this story, but the screenplay (by Erwin, Diederik Hoogstraten and Tom Provost) flattens his character into a basic cookie-cutter hero. Audiences, including the middle school social studies students, deserve better and more nuanced stories about this country and the values it was built upon.

“Young Washington” is propaganda in the form of a history lesson wrapped in a summer blockbuster. If only it were even slightly entertaining — maybe they’ll tackle that in the inevitable sequel.

In 1913, Antonino Alati left southern Italy to find a better life in a land where many people regarded him as little better than scum.

He joined millions of his fellow countrymen in the United States, where the press vilified Italians as poor, dirty, violent Catholics who had too many babies, refused to assimilate and could never possibly be considered “white.”

Politicians were already working to shut the door on them. A congressional report released two years before Alati’s arrival cited southern Italians as evidence that “the new immigration as a class is far less intelligent than the old.” They came to the U.S., the report asserted, “with the intention of profiting, in a pecuniary way, by the superior advantages of the new world and then returning to the old country.”

Alati wouldn’t let bigotry win. He soon sent for his wife and children, including his infant son Salvatore. Alati turned to Alito, Salvatore became Samuel. A generation later, the family had a Supreme Court justice in Samuel A. Alito Jr. — the second Italian American, after Antonin Scalia, to sit on the highest court in the land.

During his 2005 confirmation hearings, Alito praised his father as an “extraordinary man who came to the United States as a young child and overcame many difficulties” to ensure a better life for him and his sister. By then, Italian Americans were established as an essential part of this country’s fabric, from music to politics to food.

It’s the most American of tales — which is why it’s so surprising, yet not, to read Alito’s blistering dissent in the Supreme Court’s 6-3 decision rejecting President Trump’s effort to end birthright citizenship.

If there’s one constant in this country besides death and taxes, it’s how quickly descendants of immigrants, and sometimes immigrants themselves, forget how loathed their ethnic group was and how they proved the haters wrong. Too many become uncharitable to the policies that helped them and the immigrants who followed.

But Alito’s stance against birthright citizenship goes beyond just forgetting his roots. His 39-page opinion describes the supposed impact of undocumented migrants on the U.S., using words — “overran,” “soared,” “exploded,” “massive,” “a stream,” “huge” — that read like the same invective used against Italians in his grandfather and father’s time.

The justice channels anti-Italian conspiracies of the past by casting doubt on the national allegiances of the U.S.-born children of Mexican, Guatemalan and Salvadoran immigrants — the same patriotism test that Italian Americans faced generations ago when xenophobes questioned their Catholicism. Alito claims without evidence that millions of agricultural workers were able to apply for American citizenship after President Reagan’s 1986 amnesty “at least in part because of fraud” — a charge also leveled against Italians who sought to naturalize back in the day.

And so it goes, each passage a jumbled argument dressed up in judicial interpretations largely rejected by his fellow Catholic Supreme Court justices John Roberts, Amy Coney Barrett and Brett Kavanaugh. Coney Barrett signed on to the majority opinion that Roberts wrote, and Kavanaugh concurred.

Rev. William Barber II speaks during a rally outside the U.S. Supreme Court on April 1 while justices heard oral arguments on birthright citizenship.

(Al Drago / Getty Images)

I know how quickly families forget their own immigrant histories. Yet I look at people like Alito and wonder how they ended up thinking the way they do, because I could never imagine doing the same.

My maternal grandmother was born in Arizona to parents who fled their home country during the Mexican Revolution, becoming an American citizen by birthright. My father, who crossed the border in the trunk of a Chevy, legalized his status in an era when it was far easier to do so.

Like Alito’s paisanes, my Mexican family was also demonized for supposedly being insufficiently American and posing a threat to national unity. They also sacrificed their own dreams so their children and grandchildren could achieve theirs.

And just like Alito, some members of my family have forgotten our history and support Trump or favor some of his immigration policies, dismissing new arrivals as criminals or lazy. That’s why I will always side with undocumented people and welcome anyone who gives birth in this country with the hope that their newborn finds a better life.

It seems from his dissent that Alito somewhat agrees with me. He posits that millions of Americans who were born in this country to parents without papers “have a strong moral claim to be able to remain in the land where they grew up.” Congress “can and should address their situation,” he writes.

The justice blasts birth tourism, where women from China and other countries travel to the U.S. to have a baby, then return home, benefiting from our generosity and offering nothing in return.

I agree that’s a mockery of what being an American should be and ruins it for people who want to contribute to building a better nation. But Alito throws out the baby with the bathwater by failing to recognize that Trump’s attempt to erase birthright citizenship via executive order is presidential overreach based on bigotry, not rule of law. He’d rather cut up the Constitution to spite something he doesn’t like. Thank God his side lost, yet it’s sad that Trump’s pathetic attempt to define who can be an American went as far as it did.

Alito concludes by stating that the court’s decision to uphold the 14th Amendment is “a mistake that will seriously affect the country’s future.”

What new immigrants might inflict on this country is the perpetual worry of immigration restrictionists — and yet history keeps proving them wrong. Alito’s family did; so did mine. Only in these United States can the progeny of people once portrayed as parasites and invaders side with those making the same argument about the latest batch of newcomers.

History will see Alito’s vote for what it is: a forsaking of the promise his family once fulfilled, to support the people who never wanted them here in the first place.

Some kids grow up with video games and summer camp. Sebastian Berhalter grew up with the World Cup.

He was 13 months old when his father, Gregg, played in the tournament for the first time and 5 when his dad was called back. And four years ago, when Sebastian was already a professional in his own right, he went to Qatar to watch his father coach the U.S. to the round of 16.

Yet none of that prepared the younger Berhalter for his own World Cup debut earlier this month.

“It’s ridiculous,” Sebastian said. “Before the game, I just kept chuckling to myself, like, ‘What the hell is going on?’ Literally I couldn’t believe it. Playing for my country, it’s the best feeling in the world.

“I just can’t believe that happened.”

Nor could he believe what happened next. Because after making appearances off the bench in the team’s first two group-play games — both of which ended in U.S. victories — Berhalter started the third game. And with a goal and an assist in a loss to Turkey, he already has more World Cup goals and assists than his dad.

In fact, he’s the only American with a goal and assist in the same World Cup game in the last 96 years. Not bad for your first start in the tournament.

His father still has bragging rights in one category, however, since the 2002 team he played for is still the only American team to win a knockout game in a World Cup. Sebastian can match that Wednesday in Santa Clara when the U.S. plays Bosnia and Herzegovina in the round of 32 of this summer’s expanded tournament.

“They’re a good team,” Sebastian said of the Bosnians. “It’s a round of 32, so do or die. I think you play every game like it’s a knockout game. For us it’s, it’s keep doing what we’ve been doing.”

If Gregg provided the inspiration and the road map that guided his son to the World Cup team, the younger Berhalter had to wait for Mauricio Pochettino before he could take his first steps on that road. That came in the spring of 2025, about 11 months after his dad had been sacked as coach, when Pochettino, the new manager, gave the younger Berhalter his first national team call-up.

He’s gone on to make 16 appearances for the U.S., including three in the World Cup. And that’s something Gregg is convinced couldn’t have happened as long as he was coach.

“I think about it all the time,” he recently told ESPN. “I never could have picked him.”

The scrutiny would have been too fierce, he feared, the whispers of nepotism too loud. Sure, Michael Bradley played more than 50 internationals games for his father Bob, including four in the 2010 World Cup. But he was already on the team when his father took over from Bruce Arena, who gave Michael his first call-up.

So, Sebastian had to wait. He had to play for three MLS teams, win an MLS Cup and three Canadian Championships and become too good to ignore in order to get his first shot with the national team — one which came from Pochettino, not his father.

Neither Berhalter has regrets.

“What I know,” Gregg, now coach and sporting director of the Chicago Fire, told ESPN, “is that everything is in the place it’s supposed to be. This is how life is. It’s his turn. It’s his time now.”

And he’s playing as if there’s no time to waste.

After making his international debut in a friendly with Switzerland last May, Sebastian played five full games in the Gold Cup last summer, then scored his first international goal in a friendly with Uruguay less than three weeks before leading the Vancouver Whitecaps into the MLS Cup against Inter Miami.

So, when the time came for Pochettino to name his World Cup roster last month, it was clear Sebastian, 25, had earned a spot.

“He’s a monster. He’s a monster, in the way of how professional he is,” the coach said. “He’s the type of player who’s going to train, going to train, going to train. I mean, sometimes I have to say [to him], ‘Go inside, no?’“

After stumbling in the group-play final, which Turkey won with a goal deep in stoppage time, the U.S. will have no room for error in its first elimination game. It’s a game in which history may — or may not — be on the Americans’ side.

On one side, the U.S. is winless in its last 13 games against European opponents. On the other, its last win over a UEFA team came in December 2021, in California, over Bosnia and Herzegovina, a team to which it has never lost.

There’s an omen in there somewhere.

“Our goal is to win the World Cup,” Sebastian said. “That’s what we want to do. It’s always been our mission and we’re still taking it one game at a time.”

There’s also the family record book to think about. One more victory and Sebastian will have more World Cup wins than his dad. Two more and he’ll be in the tournament quarterfinals, which is as far as his father went in his first World Cup.

In Qatar, Sebastian was the one in stands, cheering on his dad. In this tournament, the roles have been reversed. And Gregg told his son he couldn’t be happier about or prouder of how things have worked out.

“Four years ago, I was waiting for him to come up in the stands. Now, he was waiting for me to come up in the stands,” Sebastian said. “That was special.

“When you hear words that your dad is proud of you, that’s a cool moment.”

NBA mock drafts projected Cameron Carr getting selected somewhere between 15 and 20 in the first round on Tuesday night.

Ending up with the Lakers later in the draft, however, was more than Carr could have asked for.

The Lakers acquired his draft rights from the New York Knicks, who took the 6-foot-5 Baylor guard with the 24th pick, in a multiple-team deal in which L.A. sent the draft rights to Spanish guard Sergio De Larrea, who was taken 25th, and cash considerations to New York.

As he sat for his introductory news conference Friday, dressed in all black, Carr shared what his thoughts were when he found out he would be playing for the Lakers.

“I’m going to the Lakers! It was more of an exciting thing,” he said. “It felt surreal. It didn’t feel real for the first couple minutes when I found out. It was trying to get my head around, ‘Man, I’m about to walk across the stage and be an NBA player.’ I’ve dreamed of this my whole life, especially since I was a kid. So it took a second. Still trying to get my head wrapped around it, but nothing but excitement and happiness. I feel more motivated to work.”

Rob Pelinka, the Lakers’ president of basketball operations, met Carr at the facility on Friday but didn’t speak with the media during the news conference.

It meant Pelinka couldn’t be asked about Austin Reaves agreeing to re-sign with the Lakers on a four-year, $185-million deal, or about how conversations are going with free agent LeBron James.

But NBA rules prohibit team officials from commenting on anything during the free agency moratorium, which won’t be lifted until July 6.

So, this day was all about the 21-year-old Carr and how impressed he was being in the Lakers’ building.

“Walking in the building, first thing you notice is the rich tradition of the people that have been here before you,” Carr said. “It’s a moment of happiness. As a kid, you always dreamed of walking across that stage and accomplishing everything you wanted to. Man, it just felt good to walk in the gym and look at the people that came before me. Now I’m in their shoes.”

Carr was viewed by NBA scouts as athletic with his 42½-inch vertical leap and as having a good jump shot.

During his sophomore season at Baylor, Carr averaged 18.9 points, 5.8 rebounds, 2.6 assists and 1.3 blocks in 34 games. He shot 49.4% from the field, 37.4% from three-point range and 80.1% from the free-throw line.

But Carr quickly talked about how playing defense will be his calling card with the Lakers.

“Stepping into an organization with people with the same type of mindset and abilities, it only makes my job easier,” Carr said. “I’ve just got to cut and dunk the ball for them, and run in transition. But first things first is establishing a defensive consistency and showing I can be dominant or a plus on the defensive end as someone they would like to guard the best player.”

Carr always had his dad, Chris Carr, to lean on during his journey as a basketball player. Having him as a mentor was so beneficial because his father spent six seasons in the NBA. His most famous moment came in 1997, when he became the runner-up to Kobe Bryant in the slam dunk contest.

Now father and son have something else in common: making the NBA.

“I’ve always wanted to be better than him,” Carr said. “I’ve always been behind, so I want to show he’s put a lot of work in me becoming a better man. So I feel the only way I can credit him and show I’m thankful for him is by putting in the work and using it every single day. He was a heck of a player, so it’s some big footsteps I’ve got to follow and a long journey.

“It’s good motivation. My ‘why’ is just to be better and show people I’m better than a lot of people that are put in front of me. I feel like that’s the chip on my shoulder, or the fire under my feet.”

At only 24, Samuel Kim Arredondo, better known as Samuel, has lived through nearly every iteration possible in a K-pop idol’s career.

As a child growing up in L.A.’s Koreatown, he attended Wilshire Park Elementary School — but by the fifth grade he had moved to South Korea with his mother, Kyung-ju, with dreams of K-pop stardom. There, he became a trainee under Pledis Entertainment.

Now a subsidiary label of Hybe — parent company of K-pop superstars BTS — Pledis was forming what became one of the most successful “third generation” K-pop groups of all time: Seventeen. Samuel, who was in the running to debut with the group, is even captured in early footage from their “Seventeen TV” variety show.

Though he didn’t make the cut, he remained close with the members and helped write lyrics for their 10-year anniversary album. Just last week, he filmed a dance challenge with singer-MC Mingyu for the reggaeton-infused pop number “Zigi Zigi Zigi” — the lead single off of his new EP, “Samuelito,” which dropped June 8.

After leaving Pledis, Samuel — who is fluent in both English and Korean — signed to a new agency, Brave Entertainment, then formed one half of a short-lived hip-hop duo, 1Punch. (He was Punch, the other kid was One.)

In 2017 he competed on the second season of Produce 101, a globally popular Korean competition franchise, where he made it to the penultimate episode before the debut of the group Wanna One. That same year, he released his first solo album, “Sixteen,” fully showcasing his outstanding dance ability, youthful swagger and velvety tenor.

Yet before he could finally make headway, he suffered a devastating loss.

Samuel’s father, José Arredondo, who came to the U.S. from Michoacán as a child, died tragically in a 2019 case that made national and local headlines. After having spent years apart from his father while living in Korea, Samuel spent quality time with him shortly before his death.

José was a pillar of his community; he rose from washing cars to owning his own car dealership, alongside other businesses in Bakersfield. A precocious young Samuel can still be found showing off his dance and Spanish skills in an old commercial for the dealership. (“Volkswagen me hace bailar,” he says before busting a move.)

The loss of his father was made more harrowing when the news went public, Samuel recalls over a Zoom interview from Seoul, where he is promoting his new album.

“The articles went out first,” he explains. “It was everywhere before I even wanted to talk about it, so I had no choice to keep it private … of course it’s definitely hard for me.”

In the aftermath, Samuel went under the radar — but after a year or two, he started to pave a way forward. After getting out of the contract with his former label, and with the support of his mother, he launched his own company, Samuel Music Group.

“If I kept on staying in the past, I think no one would like it — even my dad wouldn’t like it,” he says. “I learned a lot through that emotion as well. Always be grateful, always be thankful every time, and try to say ‘thank you’ always, especially to parents.”

Composed of three songs and one interlude, “Samuelito” takes its name from the childhood moniker some know him by today. As the follow-up to his 2024 EP, “Now,” it is his second record release since he became independent. It’s also his first record sung predominantly in Spanish — along with the occasional sprinkle of English and Korean. (Take the onomatopoeic “Ddook Ddak,” which is Korean slang for “just like that.”)

Singing in Spanish for the first time, he tells me, to music he created himself, made his “heart race.”

“Samuelito” is not so much an exploration of Mexican musical traditions, but of Latin-influenced rhythms and sounds filtered through his uniquely multicultural lens. In the future, he dreams of working with genre-spanning Latino pop artists who crossed over culturally, like Selena Gomez, Camila Cabello and Rauw Alejandro.

In an Instagram reel from earlier this year he described his efforts as “K-tone” — a Latin and reggaeton fusion, powered by K-pop discipline. The comments below were peppered with encouraging responses from fans in multiple languages.

Wrote Liz Zeledon, from Oceanside: “As a Korean-Nicaraguan who grew up with exposure to both cultures, I love hearing Latin influences in K-pop… Korean Latines are so underrepresented in the Korean music industry.”

Reached by phone, Zeledon is a K-pop fan who has kept tabs on Samuel since his Seventeen trainee days; she is also a child of immigrant parents.”Representation is so important, because existence and visibility are not the same thing,” she says.

In the lead-up to the album’s release, Samuel posted photos and videos of himself as a young child. In one, his dad holds him up as a baby, dressed in all-white with a tam hat. Though Samuel says the EP is not an on-the-nose tribute to the elder Arredondo, his spirit resonates through the lyrics of the poignant downtempo track, “Never Say Goodbye.”

“Gritos que yo sé/Que llegan hasta El Cielo/Gotitas en el suelo/Y se me cae el mundo entero,” he sings. (“Cries that I know/Reach all the way to Heaven/Little drops on the ground/And my whole world comes crashing down.”)

“I used to listen to a lot of Spanish music while I was growing up … I used to eat a lot of Mexican food too,” he says. “While I was in the studio last year, I had [this] big vision: [‘What if] I bring back my roots and just be the true me and call this album “Samuelito?”’ It just felt fresh.”

Samuel started songwriting and producing for himself in the making of “Now.” On his new album, only three writers are credited, including himself — which is somewhat of a rarity these days in K-pop. One of them is Canadian Mexican singer-songwriter Andrea Rocha.

From her new home in L.A., Rocha said the main goal was to seamlessly blend two distinct musical cultures. Although Samuel came to the studio with the structure for his songs already in place, they worked on melodies and writing in Spanish together, since this was his first time penning lyrics in the language.

Rocha says she was taken aback by Samuel’s professionalism. “I’d be like, ‘Oh, what about this melody?’ And then he would sing it perfectly,” she says. “I did ask him about his K-pop training, because it sounds really intense. I think it shows how hard he’s worked in those years because he’s got all the star qualities. Compared to a lot of newer artists that I work with, I’m like, ‘Ooh, they’ve [done] a lot of work to get to that level.’”

These days, Samuel splits his time between Seoul and Los Angeles — once again calling Koreatown his permanent home. He also continues to spend time with his dad’s side of the family in Bakersfield.

“I think the biggest thing that I am happy about is getting back to my roots, where I started,” says Samuel.

An Argentine television presenter has resigned after falsely reporting that the father of Lionel Messi had died during Argentina’s first World Cup game.

Florencia Pena made the claim during a live broadcast on Argentine streaming channel Luzu TV following Argentina’s opening group game win over Algeria.

“I don’t want to bring bad news, but Messi’s father has just passed away. It was sudden. In the middle of the World Cup,” Pena said while hosting the show.

The report quickly spread on social media before Pena clarified that the information had not been confirmed.

The Messi family later issued a statement confirming that the player’s father, Jorge Messi, is receiving medical treatment for an undisclosed health condition.

The statement said the 68-year-old is under medical supervision and recovering, while criticising speculation surrounding his health and calling for privacy during a difficult period.

Pena apologised publicly and said the information had been passed to her during the programme as if it was verified news.

“I apologise to the Messi family,” she said in a statement. “I am deeply ashamed to have been involved in this mistake.”

The 51-year-old television personality and actress now says she was given unverified information.

“I have to clarify that this false information was given to me live on air as if it had been checked by the show’s production team, and I trusted it,” Pena wrote on social media on Thursday.

“Even so, I take responsibility for being part of the mistake and that is why I decided to step aside and end my participation in Luzu.

“I apologise again from the heart; I was wrong.”

Luzu TV also apologised and announced disciplinary action following the incident, saying the dissemination of sensitive information without proper verification was unacceptable.

Nicolas Occhiato, the show’s host and producer, said: “We at Luzu TV deeply regret what happened on the air during the program El Show de Verano. For our channel, the broadcast of sensitive information without proper prior verification is unacceptable.

“For this reason, Luzu TV management has decided to terminate the employment of all those responsible, and Florencia Pena has decided to step down.

“We reaffirm our commitment to responsible, respectful, and rigorous journalism.”

The controversy came after Messi scored a hat-trick in Argentina’s 3-0 win over Algeria. The 38-year-old appeared emotional during the match and later said he had experienced “difficult days” for personal reasons unrelated to football.

The false report triggered widespread criticism across Argentina, with many supporters condemning the failure to verify the information before it was broadcast.

Argentina’s President Javier Milei called it “Trash talk” on X, saying that Pena’s “outrageous and unscrupulous, unverified statements on a streaming channel, which would still be outrageous even if the information had been true, since they concern a citizen’s private life, remind us of the impunity with which some individuals believe they can operate simply because they have a microphone or a pen in their hand”.

Argentina continue their World Cup campaign against Austria on Monday (18:00 BST).

Unprecedented sports feats and historical firsts are usually joyous affairs. Something to celebrate, fun trivia to tuck away for later.

On Monday in Inglewood, the history was much more fraught, and not at all trivial.

Iran’s national soccer team played on American soil — this time on SoFi Stadium’s natural turf — for the first time in 26 years. And for the first time, a country hosted a World Cup participant with which it is mired in an on-again, off-again war.

There was, in the days and hours leading up to the match, protest and pushback from portions of the large, local Iranian diaspora who didn’t think it was possible to support the country’s football team without supporting the oppressive regime.

But inside SoFi Stadium, thousands of L.A.’s Iranian supporters gave the team its full-throated support. So did many new Mexican fans who’ve adopted Team Melli, which has been staying and training in Tijuana between matches as it was barred from the United States except for game days.

Most of the near-sellout crowd of 70,108 were there cheering Iran, helping propel this team under so much pressure to an entertaining 2-2 tie with New Zealand.

And there, among the thousands of enthusiastic Iran supporters swept up in the match, was my son’s favorite soccer coach, Narbé Mansourian, with his son, 13-year-old Daniel.

Narbé’s brother got his hands on a pair of nosebleed tickets and immediately handed them over to his soccer-loving relatives.

And Narbé — a fifth- and sixth-grade social studies teacher in Hollywood — had no qualms about backing these Iranian men. There were no second thoughts about separating the players from the politics in the country with the complicated geopolitical — and personal — history.

Now, know this: Mansourian is no fan of Iran’s Islamic regime. He was 7 in 1983 when his father, a political dissident, was executed in Evin Prison, nine months after he’d been apprehended.

Narbé remembers visiting his dad, Vazgen, at the notorious prison. He remembers the long drive to get there, the long wait to see him and the game he and his mom used to play: “Today you are 4 years old.”

Narbé Mansourian, right, and his son Daniel before Monday’s World Cup match between Iran and New Zealand at SoFi Stadium.

(Mirjam Swanson / Los Angeles Times)

What started as a way to avoid paying bus fares for 6-year-old Narbé became the way to fool guards at prison, where only the small children were allowed to physically touch their imprisoned loved ones.

He remembers being allowed behind the glass, where he’d wait for his dad to emerge, blind-folded.

When his dad was killed at 37, Narbé said his mother didn’t immediately find out. And when she did, she initially told Narbé that he’d been sick. There was no funeral and when they went to visit his father’s grave, they found a dirt field. There were no markers, Narbé recalls.

He has kept Vazgen’s Coke-bottle glasses, his watch and the still-intact little LEGO house they built together before his dad was taken to prison.

Narbé has held onto so many difficult memories, including the nighttime terrors associated with bombings during the Iran-Iraq war. But there are also happier recollections. Like the stories he would make up about good guys going against the greedy. And, yes, memories of going to soccer games with his dad.

So, “absolutely, I’m going to root for the Iranian national team,” Narbé said before Monday’s match, saying that, to him, equating the Iranian national team with the country’s regime is like rooting against the Knicks because you don’t like President Donald Trump, a native New Yorker.

“It’s not like a cartoon good guy, bad guy,” Narbé said. “There’s so much gray. Because they live there. My heart goes out to them. It can’t be easy, to kind of teeter-totter like that.”

A pre-revolutionary Iranian flag is displayed before the World Cup group stage match between Iran and New Zealand at SoFi Stadium.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

I should’ve expected this outstanding youth soccer coach would be most concerned with the players on the pitch.

Some fans got into SoFi on Monday with the Iranian Lion and Sun flag, a historic Iranian national and opposition flag that was banned from the stadium because FIFA desires to steer free of politics (unless it’s steering straight into them). It was a strange sight in Los Angeles, seeing stadium workers asking attendees to discard flags in an effort to censor the expression of people here.

Some of those fans turned their backs during the national anthem, which many in the stands jeered at its start. But then, once the game took hold, so did the support.

“There were many Iranians here,” Iran coach Amir Ghalenoei said through an interpreter. “They believe in different political affiliations, different beliefs, but they all wholeheartedly encouraged us, and I think that’s a victory for all of us.”

It’s Friday afternoon in North Hollywood and Ziggy Marley is perched on a stool inside his newly built Rebel Lion Studio, tucked in one of the neighborhood’s creative enclaves.

The nine-time Grammy winner is surrounded by a collection of lion figurines, guitars, traditional hand drums and a piano. Along the walls hang two replicas of backdrops his legendary father, Bob Marley, used on tour in the 1970s. The murals, depicting Rastafari icons and Haile Selassie I and Marcus Garvey, were featured in the 2024 biopic “Bob Marley: One Love.”

“These are what we used as the backdrop for the concert scenes. Them spiritual to me,” Marley says in patois as the smell of palo santo dances around the rehearsal space.

Music has been both an inheritance and lifelong pursuit for Marley. From sitting in studio sessions with his father as a child to building a five-decade career of his own, he has remained a curious student of the craft, one willing to challenge convention in search of a deeper meaning. That spirit is evident on “Brightside,” his ninth solo album, which was released on vinyl on April 18 (Record Store Day) and May 1 on streaming.

Rather than recording the eight-track project in 440 Hz, the standard tuning frequency for most modern music, he opted for 432 Hz, a tuning some musicians and theorists believe creates a warmer, more meditative listening experience. He also slowed down his songwriting process, giving each lyric room to carry its message of hope through turbulent times. The album, which may be his most personal yet, also features “Many Mourn for Bob,” the first song he has written directly about his late father.

“I think it shows the next stage that I probably am in,” says Marley, adding that he felt connected to his father on a spiritual level. “We took another step in the relationship, to another place that it’s never been before.”

Ziggy Marley is bringing his “Brightside” tour to the Hollywood Bowl on June 21 alongside reggae star Burning Spear.

(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)

He adds, “When I was doing the song, it kind of came to me like this song could’ve been my father’s song. It could’ve been a song that he wrote.”

The reflective nature of “Brightside” arrives at another pivotal time in Marley’s career. This year marks the 20th anniversary of “Love Is My Religion,” the Grammy-winning album that launched his solo career and crystallized a personal philosophy he still carries today. He is also set to release his sixth children’s book, “True to Myself,” in September.

As we wrap up our conversation, Marley has only a few minutes before Rebel Lion Studio shifts back into work mode. Within minutes, bandmates, background singers and production crew members begin funneling into the space, hauling in stacks of equipment as promotion and preparations continue the “Brightside” tour, which stops at the Hollywood Bowl on June 21.

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

You recorded your latest album, “Brightside,” here at Rebel Lion Studio, which you designed and built from the ground up. Can you take me back to the beginning of that process and why you wanted to do it?

I grew up around my father and my mother as growing musicians trying to succeed and there was one thing I kept hearing over and over throughout my life: independence. Their whole mission was to be independent. I saw them work and I saw my father build a studio. I saw him have a space where he can do more music and control his own time. That was a dream of mine for a long time, ever since I started doing music because usually we use other people’s studios. I couldn’t have this in my house. It’s too much. It’s a dream come true.

We’re surrounded by two beautiful murals. Is there a particular item that is personal to you?

The murals are replicas of my father’s backdrops that they used. The original artwork is by Neville Garrick, but he helped us re-create them for the Bob Marley movie. These are the murals we used as the backdrop for the concert scenes. They are spiritual to me cause that’s Haile Selassie and Marcus Garvey, two very important beings for us. Inspirational.

On “Brightside,” Ziggy Marley dedicated a song to his father, Bob Marley, for the first time in his career.

(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)

“Brightside” is your ninth solo album. What mindset were you in emotionally and spiritually when you started working on it?

I never thought about making an album, I was just writing songs. You just tap into things in your subconscious that are waiting to become music, I feel like. Then when the time comes for writing songs, the time comes. It’s like a season. Like you have blueberry or orange season. So there’s a season for me when I write songs. Then you say, “All right, let’s make an album then.” But you don’t think about an album before. It’s just an expression or a feeling just to make music, not for any reason but to make it. It happened over a period of years. Ideas and experiences that eventually come out. But closer to the time I [made] the album, I remember writing some of the later songs like “Why Let the World.” It was a song that I wrote because I was feeling down and everything that was happening in the world and the country. Just so much negativity and I just felt like I needed to take a break from it. To recharge yourself. We cannot fight every day. We need to take a break and then get back to it. I needed to teach myself to take some time. It was more of a mental thing than an emotional thing. Stuff I deal with my father, personal life and stuff with my spirituality and my faith. So there’s a lot of me in this record.

“Many Mourn for Bob” is the first song you’ve explicitly written about your father. Your brother, Stephen, is also on the vocals. What surprised you emotionally once that song was finished?

I’m not sure I thought about it like that. The experience of expressing that emotion, it’s a spiritual experience. I think it shows the next stage that I probably am in and even my relationship with my father on that spiritual level. It’s a different place. We took another step in the relationship, to another place that it’s never been before. When I was doing the song, it kind of came to me like this song could’ve been my father’s song. It could’ve been a song that he wrote. That’s how I felt about it. This is partly his song. It’s me and him making this song. This song is his song too.

How has your relationship with grief changed over the years?

It’s more of a comrade, understanding, empathy and having the maturity and the experience to understand what he went through as a man, as a human being. I think that’s what it is, really. A better understanding of what he went through, not the glory. The pain, the mental and emotional state. You’re more than just an idol. You’re more than just a legend. You’re more than just a father. To go deeper than that, so that’s the next level.

Yeah, the skit you used of him saying “I’m just a man from the ghetto” on the song really summarizes that.

That’s the real him. That’s him right there. Even in the tone of his voice, you can hear the real Robert coming out.

Another standout song from the album is “Racism Is a Killa.” One thing that you do well is having a heavy topic, but finding a way to still make it feel hopeful and joyful. Why was it important for you to approach the track this way rather than from a place of anger, heaviness or sounding preachy?

I think it started out preachy and angry, but over time, it kind of evolved and I kind of evolved too ‘cause my own evolution is represented in the music. And you know something, doing that song helped me evolve because I had to think about it differently without the anger. The song made me do that. Like how else can I approach this? It’s inspiration that causes these things. It’s not an intellectual thing. I didn’t do that intellectually. Like over time, something just started coming out of me. I never really thought about it before, but I can see it now.

In the video, which features your daughter, Zuri, you referred to the condition as “Racismosis” in the video and sang about how it can be cured.

It’s kind of like a sickness, a disease. It’s a virus. We can minimize the virus and stop the disease. It’s true. Racism is a killa. This virus can kill ya. Literally kill ya. Spirtually kill ya. Emotionally kill ya. Mentally kill ya. It kill ya in different ways. It kills the victim and it kills the person perpetrating it. It’s killing everyone, but we can cure it though. It starts with the children. I have a friend of mine who said, “Yo, my little son loves this song. He doesn’t want to stop. He says ‘Put on “Racism is a Killa.”’ So that’s where the antidote is starting. The minds of the children. The music with a conscious message gives them the right consciousness that they grow up with. That is how we take our time and lower the spread of the virus.

You recently released an alternate version for “Racism Is a Killa” with Big Boi. How did that collaboration come together and what excited you about working with him?

I’ve loved Big Boi and Outkast from a long time ago. He’s a legend and a strong voice. There’s different layers to it and I feel like Big Boi took it to that other layer. So yeah, we just love Big Boi and I’m going to jump on something he does. [Laughs]

I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask your approach for your album and how you swapped the typical 440 Hz for 432 Hz. Do you remember the first time you heard the music played back that way?

It’s a long journey because for most of my life in music, I’ve tried to be a student. I’ve tried to keep an open mind and learn more and more. With this album, there’s an inspirational side of music and that’s where I lean into most of the time, but as I grew up, I started to understand there’s also a science too. It’s also mathematics. The universe, it’s all mathematics and science, and I shouldn’t shun the science of music just because I think the inspiration is all it should be. I think a part of that was learning that for myself and opening up and saying, “Yo, let me put some science into this.” Frequency. What does frequency do to people? Frequency affects people. Frequency is a weapon. It’s a tool. I’m sure the army has some kind of frequency thing. So frequency is powerful. I wanted to try something different anyway. I want to be different. I want my frequency to be different from the majority of frequencies that’s being played out there, because it’s fun for me to be different.

When I was working on the demos, I was like “Let me try this 432 Hz thing” and I like how it feels for me personally, how I sing on the frequencies. It resonates differently and makes me feel different. We did it and it felt good, and we did it live, and from my point of view, I felt a different energy with the audience too. So all of those experiments led me to the final conclusion to say, “Yeah, let me do the record in 432.” It’s really nice vibes, which the world needs a different frequency. We can use it.

This year marks the 20th anniversary of “Love Is My Religion,” your first solo Grammy-winning album. When you think back to that era of your life, who was Ziggy back then?

A lot was changing because I moved to L.A. during that time.

You got married around that time too, right?

Yeah. I don’t really fight change. I just try to navigate them and figure them out cause sometimes change is hard. There was a lot of change living here, moving around, trying to find a place, music, but then it’s like we are continuously updating ourselves. I’m continually updating. You know how you update your OS. I’m updating my OS. My operating system is being updated throughout my experience in life. There’s always something else out there for me to evolve to. So during that period of my life, “Love Is My Religion” came to me when someone asked me, “What religion are you?” And I just said “Love is my religion.” I never thought about it before, never contemplated it, never even thought of those words together before in my life, and they just came out to me that day. So the album represents a time in my life when I realized there’s a spiritual awakening that I had. “Love Is My Religion” is a spiritual awakening. That’s my thing. That’s who I am. That’s why it’s a milestone.

“If you think you’re going to change this world with music and you’re trying to send a message out there, you have to speak to children,” Ziggy Marley says.

(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)

You’re kicking off the “Brightside” tour this month, which includes a stop at the Hollywood Bowl. What are you most excited about when it comes to bringing this album to people for the first time live?

I’m excited about playing the music. I think it’s about the music. These new songs, they vibrate very highly for me and I’m excited about experiencing and expressing that. And also kind of not doing it for the audience. I don’t want to do it for the audience. I want the audience to experience what I’m experiencing, what I’m expressing. I want them to feel me. I don’t want them to be like “Hey look at me.” [Laughs] There’s still connectivity going on, but I want them to feel the songs the real way. That’s what I’m excited about for people to feel it the way that I feel it.

You even posted the lyrics and told fans to get to practicing, so they can really understand the message.

Yeah. Just reading them for me, I really like the writing I did on this. I also took some time with this too. I was saying to someone that I developed a deeper relationship with the lyrics and the words than I did before. My relationship with the words here are very mature. I feel good about it. That’s why I want people to know the words because words are very important. Words are very important. If you know the words you get a deeper understanding of what I’m talking about and what I’m feeling.

After nearly 50 years of making music, Ziggy Marley built his own studio in North Hollywood called Rebel Lion Studio. He plans to turn it into a multipurpose creative space.

(Dania Maxwell / For The Times)

Look on the bright side is a phrase that people say often, but what do those words mean to you right now?

Sometimes we can get in a place [where] we can’t see the other side of things because we’re so caught up in that one place. Like the cliché, there’s two sides to a story, ya know? The universe is always yin and yang, but there’s always another side of things. But I feel like the way we are being programmed in a way through media and everything, it’s like there’s only one side. Everything is like this, there’s nothing else going on over there that we need to see, we only need to see this. This is all that’s going on in the world. There’s nothing good, there’s nothing nice, there’s no good people, there’s no love. So it’s a realization too. A realization that there’s the other side. Never get to that place where we think it’s just that side alone because we get so much of it. It’s a reminder, I think, for us like “Come on guys.” The thing about it too, sometimes you can feel like — even for me — some people say, “Hey look on the bright side,” some people find that like “Why are you happy? Why you so chirpy?” [Laughs]

That’s true.

I’m proud that I’m on the bright side. I’m living on the bright side, I don’t care. You don’t like me because I’m living on the bright side? You want me to be like you, you want me just live on the dark side with you, right? So it’s like a proudness of being positive and having that outlook in life, and not feeling like you have to [fall to] peer pressure. More positivity in life, not just the negativity. I’m confident in that too. So it’s kind of like that too, you know, like being proud, lifting up that side of me. Yeah, I’m happy to be living on the bright side.

To understand the gravitational pull toward golf, consider the sport as a sequence of problems. Aaron Singleton, a skilled player in the Dads Link Golf Club, is playing particularly well today at Palos Verdes Golf Course, having just hit two back-to-back birdies. But even on the shots that fly into a grassy oblivion, he smiles.

• Share via Close extra sharing options

“Golf is 18 different holes. 18 different chances to solve a problem,” he says. “Each hole presents a different problem. Each shot is a different problem.” According to Singleton, this wisdom that players inherit on the golf course — especially resilience and patience — translates to fatherhood.

Singleton, who has a 3-year-old son, is part of a growing group of fathers who participate in the Dads Link Golf Club. The club is part of the region’s golf boom; Southern California Golf Assn. is estimated to have one of the largest memberships in the country, with over 200,000 golfers.

Ian Davis, the founder of Dads Link and Golf Club, watches his drive.

Ian Davis is the founder of Los Angeles’ Dads Link Golf Club. Each month, he invites fathers to enjoy golf together to focus on fellowship, fatherhood and their well-being.

“This has grown in a way that I couldn’t have imagined,” says Davis, who works as a wellness coach with an emphasis in mindfulness and meditation. He started the club in 2023 on the East Coast before relocating it to Los Angeles in January 2024, where the club hosts an annual Father’s Day tournament and various golf clinics.

At the driving range, Davis leads the group through “a grounding practice” that involves stretching and deep breathing. Member Ose Akhile, a personal trainer, follows up with stretching and other warm-up exercises. For many of the men, golf has become a rediscovered hobby. Singleton returned to the sport after playing it as a teenager. “I’m looking forward to getting better,” he says.

Club member Darius Ingram, father of 3-year-old daughter, says that reconnecting with the game has allowed him to prioritize his own well-being.

“I used to play golf recreationally. Now, I do it for mental stability,” he says.

Ian Davis greets Ose Akhile as Darius Ingram stands nearby.

Ian Monteilh, who is new to the group and has two daughters ages 11 and 15, says the outing provides camaraderie that was missing from his life.

“It’s a community that I didn’t have. I’m blessed to be around like-minded men with no pressure,” he says. “Even if we’re having a rough day on a golf course, there’s camaraderie.”

Once considered a predominantly white sport, golf is now being reshaped by a new generation of Black players and other players of color, including many of the fathers in Dads Link Golf Club. In 2024, 25% of golfers across courses nationally were Black, Asian and Latino, marking the most diverse era in the sport’s history, according to the National Golf Foundation.

“It’s a lot less pretentious — more diverse, more access for all different types of people,” says Ingram, who noticed a shift in golfing culture in recent years. Despite Tiger Woods’ storied career as one of the sport’s most impactful athletes, Black men remain underrepresented in top tournaments.

Darius Ingram reacts to barely missing a putt on the 18th green as Ian Davis watches.

Ingram partly attributes Black men’s interest in golf to renewed interest from other professional athletes. Star athletes like Michael Jordan and Steph Curry — who also happen to be dads — are skilled golfers.

“There are a lot of people who play their main sport, and they play golf when they retire,” says Ingram.

Ose Akhile smiles before teeing off.

Rappers like Schoolboy Q and DJ Khalid have also become interested in the sport, adding to its cachet.

The benefits of the groups are apparent, explains Akhile, who has three daughters, ages 6, 7 and 9.

“I’m outside — fresh air, sunshine, a break for my family. I get to decompress,” he says. Describing himself as a “Caribbean baby,” he explains that the ocean waves have a hypnotic effect on him. As the golfers move along the Palos Verdes course, the ocean stretches beyond them.

“Nature helps a lot with stress relief. There’s a lot of green grass and quiet out here. I love my child, but it’s hard to hear her yell, ‘Dad!’ every three seconds,” says Singleton. During the game, he stays calm while a squirrel approaches him. “Me and nature are one with each other,” he says. Behind him, a baby coyote prances into the fog.

Singleton adds that in the chaos of fatherhood, friendships occasionally fall to the wayside.

“There’s so much to do. Everyone separated. It’s beneficial to have a group text, a fellowship like this, where you can hear someone going through the same thing as you,” Singleton says.

Akhile agrees. “These are probably the only guys that understand the day-to-day stressors and pressures of my life,” he says.

Ose Akhile, Darius Ingram, Ian Monteilh, Ian Davis, Aaron Singleton and other Dads Link and Golf members have breakfast together.

After finishing nine holes, the men enjoy breakfast burritos. They joke that they will begin ranking the golf courses in the L.A. area by the quality of their breakfast burritos. Meanwhile, Davis leads the group through a conversation about fatherhood. Each month he chooses one dad to be the focus. This morning that’s Ingram. He speaks on being a father and how it relates to golf.

“I’m not as good as I want to be, so there’s frustration there,” Ingram says, referring to the challenges of parenting. He adds that to “right things” he doesn’t like about himself, he focuses on how his efforts could result in his daughter becoming a better version of him. The men offer encouragement as birds circle above. The sun pierces through the fog.

Monteilh looks up and jokes: “The only birdies I saw today were in the sky.”

A federal immigration judge has granted asylum to a woman orphaned in Iran in the 1970s and adopted by an American war veteran, whom immigration officials threatened this year with deportation to the country with which the U.S. is now at war.

Judge Andrew Fishkin’s ruling probably ends a months-long ordeal for the California woman, one of thousands adopted from abroad who were never granted citizenship because of bureaucratic loopholes between adoption and immigration law.

The woman has lived in the United States since she was adopted by American parents as a toddler and has no criminal record. The Associated Press is not naming her because she worries her legal situation remains tenuous as the administration has time to appeal. A federal judge has allowed her to use a pseudonym, “Ms. S,” in her challenge to the government’s determination of her immigration status.

The woman received a letter from the Department of Homeland Security in February that ordered her to appear for removal proceedings, saying she is subject to deportation because she overstayed her visa in March 1974 at 4 years old.

The woman, 56, described what came next as a terrifying and humiliating few months.

She grew up in a Christian, military family on a farm in Wisconsin and was taught to be patriotic. But the documents she received from the government described her as an “alien;” some said she did not understand English, which is the only language she speaks.

Immigration officials told her she was being arrested, but was released and tracked with an ankle monitor. She bought new pants to try to hide it and taught herself not to cross her legs in work meetings, terrified it would threaten the corporate job in healthcare she’s held for almost two decades.

They fingerprinted her and took her DNA. She said she was obviously weeping in the mug shot they snapped of her.

She prepared herself to be detained: She put her bills on autopay and gave her friends a key to her home.

Her lawyer, Emily Howe, said the government had the power to agree she is an American citizen.

“Instead they treated her like a terrorist, like she was the worst of the worst criminals,” Howe said. “It felt very Big Brother, very Orwellian.”

The Department of Homeland Security declined to comment on the record on an individual case.

The Associated Press profiled the woman in 2024 as part of a story about how many international adoptees were left without citizenship because their American adoptive parents failed to naturalize them.

The woman’s parents were living in Iran, where her father was working for a U.S. government contractor, in the 1970s. He was retired from the Air Force as a lieutenant colonel. He’d been held for years a prisoner of war in Germany during World War II.

The couple found the toddler at an orphanage and returned to the U.S. with her in 1973 and soon completed the adoption. At that time, parents had to separately naturalize adopted children. The woman’s parents have since died.

She didn’t learn she hadn’t been naturalized until she applied for a passport at 38 years old. She still doesn’t know how the oversight happened. She searched her father’s papers and found a letter from a lawyer, dated 1975, that said he was working with immigration officials, “it appears this matter is concluded,” and billed her father for his services.

She filed a federal lawsuit this month trying to prohibit the government from removing her and forcing it to grant her citizenship.

She has long believed she should be considered a U.S. citizen: She has a Social Security card, and a driver’s license and has been legally allowed to work and pay taxes for decades. It’s only the immigration agency that denies she is a citizen. She suspects her paperwork was lost, probably when militants seized the U.S. Embassy in Tehran in 1979.

Fishkin seemed to agree: He wrote in his ruling that documents from that embassy are not available to her or to the U.S. government. He declared her a refugee, entitled to work in the U.S. His ruling puts the woman on a pathway to being recognized as a citizen.

She’d felt hopeful, she said, when she learned her court date before Fishkin was scheduled for her late father’s birthday. She always felt like she needed to protect not only herself but also her father’s legacy. He was a conscientious military official, she said, who would not have knowingly allowed such a glaring oversight that left his daughter in legal limbo.

Galofaro writes for the Associated Press.

A Palestinian father in Hebron has buried his seven-month-old son after the baby was killed by Israeli gunfire directed at the family’s car. The shooting, which also wounded the child’s parents, is the latest deadly incident amid escalating Israeli violence in the occupied West Bank.

Japanese filmmaker Chie Hayakawa isn’t afraid to look death in the eye. The writer-director’s 2022 feature debut, “Plan 75,” imagined an unsettling future in which the elderly are offered a subsidy by the government to be euthanized. For her follow-up, she travels into her own past, drawing from memories of her father’s battle with cancer.

But while “Renoir” features no sci-fi elements, the nearness of oblivion remains just as prominent. Shorn of sentimentality, this gentle drama follows a quietly observant fifth-grader who feels the grim shadow of mortality all around her. How the character will absorb that realization is anyone’s guess — including Hayakawa’s.

Newcomer Yui Suzuki stars as Fuki, who lives in a nondescript Tokyo suburb in 1987. Her soft-spoken dad, Keiji (Lily Franky), is suffering with terminal cancer in its final stages, the emaciated man spending as much time in the hospital as he does at home. Fuki’s mother, Utako (Hikari Ishida), doesn’t seem very despondent, though: One senses an emotional exhaustion that comes from preparing so long for the inevitable that she’s now mostly numb, her anticipatory grief having given way to frayed nerves.

Fuki’s pre-mourning process is equally complicated. Outwardly, she shows no signs of being devastated by her dad’s imminent passing, happily playing with him, almost in denial of his fate. But “Renoir” subtly suggests the impressionable girl is more aware than she lets on, surrounding her with random reminders of death. Local news breathlessly reports on random domestic murders. Even when Fuki gets away from the city, the camera lingers on her watching a campfire’s dying embers. The film derives its title from the girl’s interest in “Little Irène,” a painting by influential French impressionist Pierre-Auguste Renoir. She asks if Renoir is still alive. No, he’s dead too.

Hayakawa pulls from her childhood in multiple ways for her sophomore feature, which premiered in competition at Cannes last year. “Renoir” takes place in 1987 specifically because that’s the year she turned 11, and, like her protagonist, she was infatuated with “Little Irène.” But there’s a refreshing absence of nostalgia in Hayakawa’s conception of Fuki and her quizzical processing of her father’s fatal illness.

For school, Fuki writes an essay about her wish to be an orphan. She becomes obsessed with hypnotism and mind-reading, an unorthodox strategy to create a sense of control. And, occasionally, she wanders into daydreams that Hayakawa presents so matter-of-factly that viewers may sometimes be unsure if what they’re seeing is actually happening. In “Renoir,” Fuki’s flights of fancy are as naturalistic as her everyday life — a sharp reminder that, for children, imagination and reality are often indistinguishable.

If death has been integral to Hayakawa’s two features, it’s society’s callous reaction to aging that is her primary focus. “Plan 75” eschewed dystopian-thriller conventions to ponder how Japan might one day treat its senior citizens, viewing them as little more than a drain on resources. “Renoir” makes a similar point within a memory piece. Keiji is the one dying, but it’s telling that Hayakawa centers the story on Fuki and Utako, who each, in their own way, seem more concerned about their own personal dramas.

As Keiji’s situation grows more dire, Utako enters the orbit of Toru (Ayumu Nakajima), a workplace advisor with whom she’s instantly smitten, pondering pursuing him romantically. Ironically, Toru preaches the importance of good communication skills in the office, a lesson the film’s guarded family would be wise to heed. While Utako hides her feelings for Toru, Fuki begins a secret odyssey in which she impulsively joins a phone dating service, engaging in conversations with a creepy college student (Ryota Bando) who pushes her to meet in person. This potentially traumatic subplot is the closest “Renoir” gets to traditional suspense, but even here Hayakawa adopts a muted approach, sidestepping shock value for bittersweet commentary about young people’s confusion around love. Both Utako and Fuki chase after human connections fraught with danger, each trying to insulate themselves from the tragedy waiting at home.

“Renoir” may be a delicate wisp of a film, but it’s flecked with thoughtful questioning about whether childhood’s sorrows leave permanent scars on us as adults. Suzuki exudes the fragility and buoyancy of adolescence, playing Fuki as someone constantly imbibing the world, rarely revealing what she’s doing with that stimulus. The simplest moments resonate the strongest, such as when the moody 11-year-old holds a balloon over the balcony of her family’s high-rise apartment, casually releasing her grip so that it tumbles to the ground far below. Does it speak to a desire to jump herself? “Renoir” won’t say, but the character is so poised you feel confident she’ll survive her father’s death. Who knows: Maybe years from now, she’ll even make a touching, emotionally astute movie about it.

Instead, he must now reset and recharge to go again at Wimbledon next month.

Given he is a seven-time champion on a grass surface which younger players have struggled to master, Djokovic will always fancy his chances at the All England Club.

Djokovic can never be ruled out of becoming the oldest major men’s singles champion in the Open Era, but Father Time has been sat waiting on his shoulder for a good while.

By rights, he should probably be basking in a post-retirement glow by now.

Coaching a young compatriot away from the public glare like Andy Murray, perhaps. Doing a promotional tour for a new Netflix documentary like Rafael Nadal, maybe.

While his long-time rivals move into the next phase of their lives, Djokovic was retching at the side of a court in an attempt to summon the energy to beat a teenager.

It is a testament to his superpower that he still wants to push himself to such limits against much younger opponents.

As we have seen time and time again, Djokovic’s insatiable appetite for the sport’s biggest prizes will never diminish.

But, having reached at least the semi-finals at the past five Grand Slams, this was the clearest sign yet that the ageing process was finally catching up with him.

Djokovic looked in complete control as he moved two sets ahead, but could not maintain his level as Fonseca proved he is the real deal.

“It would be nice if it was best-of-three,” Djokovic smiled.

“I just ran out of gas, to be honest. I didn’t feel good at all on the court in the next couple of sets.”

Djokovic has always thrived in the best-of-five format of the majors, beating almost anybody who has stood in his way for the best part of two years.

The only exceptions have been Sinner, Alcaraz and the muscle injury which forced him to quit against Zverev at last year’s Australian Open.

Everyone else has not been good enough, or not had the mentality, to see veteran Djokovic off.

Kyle Busch was one of NASCAR’s biggest stars and most successful drivers.

He was Cup Series champion in 2015 and 2019 and his 234 wins in NASCAR’s top three series is an all-time record.

The driver known as “Rowdy” and “Wild Thing” may have been known for brash behavior that included post-race fights and feuds with other drivers, but he was also respected as a fierce competitor and dedicated family man.

His death Thursday at age 41 came as a shock to the racing world. No cause of death has been disclosed.

“Our entire NASCAR family is heartbroken by the loss of Kyle Busch,” NASCAR said Thursday in a statement released jointly with the Busch family and his team, Richard Childress Racing. “A future Hall of Famer, Kyle was a rare talent, one who comes along once in a generation. He was fierce, he was passionate, he was immensely skilled and he cared deeply about the sport and fans.

“Throughout a career that spanned more than two decades, Kyle set records in national series wins, won championships at NASCAR’s highest level and fostered the next generation of drivers as an owner in the Truck Series. His sharp wit and competitive spirit sparked a deep emotional connection with race fans of every age, creating the proud and loyal ‘Rowdy Nation.’”

The statement concluded: “NASCAR lost a giant of the sport today, far too soon.”

Busch is survived by his wife Samantha, son Brexton, 10, daughter Lennix, 4, parents Tom and Gaye Busch, and older brother Kurt Busch, a NASCAR Hall of Fame inductee who was the Cup Series champion in 2004.

Kyle Busch, left, and Kurt Busch pose with their mother, Gaye Busch, prior to a race May 8, 2022, in Darlington, S.C.

(James Gilbert / Getty Images)

RCR announced Friday that it is suspending the use of Busch’s No. 8 and will run No. 33 in its place.

“Kyle Busch was instrumental in the design of RCR’s stylized No. 8 and it has become synonymous with Kyle and an important symbol for his fans and the NASCAR industry,” the team said in a statement. “No one can carry it forward to the level that he did. The No. 8 is reserved and ready for Brexton Busch when he is ready to go NASCAR racing.”

Busch spent the early years of his NASCAR career with Hendrick Motorsports.

“This is an incredibly painful shock for all of us and a heartbreaking loss for the NASCAR family,” team owner Rick Hendrick said in a statement. “Kyle was one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever seen and a racer in the truest sense of the word. He had a fire and competitive spirit that drove him to be great.

“I watched Kyle grow up in this sport and valued the friendship we shared long after he drove for our organization. As much as he loved to drive a race car, nothing brought him more joy than being a husband, a father and watching his son race.”

Busch won his first Cup Series race in 2005 and claimed rookie of the year honors the same year.

Jeff Gordon, left, talks with Kyle Busch prior to a race Oct. 30, 2016, in Martinsville, Va.

(Robert Laberge / Getty Images)

“Kyle was a fierce competitor who demanded the very best from himself each time he put on the helmet,” former Hendrick teammate Jeff Gordon wrote on X. “As teammates, I saw firsthand the passion and intensity he brought to the sport every single day. He was a champion and prolific racer who made a tremendous impact on NASCAR and was a lifelong advocate for all forms of motor sports.”

Fellow former Hendrick teammate Jimmie Johnson wrote on X: “Kyle Busch wasn’t just one of the fiercest competitors our sport has ever seen, he was one of the most talented race car drivers I’ve ever shared a track with. We spent years as teammates at Hendrick Motorsports, and even as competitors, there was always a deep respect for what he could do behind the wheel.

“Kyle pushed all of us to be better. His passion, intensity, and love for racing were unmatched, and his impact on this sport will be felt forever. I’ll always remember the many laughs and conversations away from the spotlight, and most importantly the way he cared so deeply about his family. …

“NASCAR lost one of its greatest talents today, and we’ve all lost a friend.”

Busch was let go by Hendrick Motorsports after the 2007 season, making room for the team to sign Dale Earnhardt Jr.

“Kyle and I had a really challenging existence for many years,” Earnhardt wrote on X. “But we luckily took the time to figure out our differences and that was something he instigated with a conversation in his bus around how we each managed our racing teams. I was super eager for us to get on better terms. But it was he who made the effort for that to be possible.”

Earnhardt added: “Kyle was one of the greatest drivers in NASCAR history. No one can deny that. But he was also a father, a husband, brother, son, and a friend to many. My heart is broken for the Busch family. I will never be able to make sense of this loss but I am thankful that we had found a way to become friends.”

Busch then moved to Joe Gibbs Racing, where he remained until 2023 and saw much of his career success.

“Kyle was a fierce competitor, an incredible teammate, and, far more importantly, a devoted husband, father, and son,” Joe Gibbs Racing said in a statement. “His impact on our organization and on the sport of NASCAR will never be forgotten.”

Kyle Busch, left, stands in the garage with Denny Hamlin before a practice Oct. 11, 2007, in Concord, N.C.

(Streeter Lecka / Getty Images)

Former JGR teammate Hamlin wrote on X: “Absolutely cannot comprehend this news. We just need to think of his family during this time. We love you KB.”

Busch was ranked 24th in the Cup Series this year, with his best finish being eighth place at Watkins Glen International in Dix, N.Y., on May 10. He also was racing part-time for Spire Motorsports in the Craftsman Truck Series. He had two victories in that series this season, including one last week at Dover Motor Speedway in Delaware.

“Simply put, he was one of the best to ever do this,” Spire Motorsports co-owner Jeff Dickerson said in a statement. “But for those closest to him, there was always another side. For years, many of us would tell people there was a softness behind the public persona they rarely saw. As much of a bad ass as he was on the track, some of us were lucky enough to experience how deeply he loved, how much he cared, and yes, how much he hurt. …

“We used to tell people about that side of him, and some would assume we were just trying to reshape public perception. No one could question it now. By now, the world has seen the incredible devotion he had to being a father to Brexton and Lennix. He loved his kids more than anything. The pride in his voice whenever he talked about them is something I will always remember with gratitude. … My heart absolutely breaks for you, Brexton and Lennix.”

Here are more tributes to Busch posted on X by members of the racing community:

— “I made him earn every victory and stole a few from him along the way,” Brad Keselowski wrote. “We took our shots at each other, in the media and on the track. But I’d like to think that somewhere deep down there was an appreciation that we pushed each other to perform at the highest level, even if neither of us would’ve admitted it. Tonight, I feel a little like the coyote with no more roadrunner to chase. His loss is all of our loss, but none more so than his family’s.”

Kyle Busch, left, and Clint Bowyer sit together in the garage during practice Sept. 21, 2007, in Dover, Del.

(Russ Hamilton / Associated Press)

— “There aren’t really words for today,” Ricky Stenhouse Jr. wrote. “I’ve raced against Kyle for a long time, and anyone who’s lined up next to him knows exactly what made him special, he gave you everything he had, every single lap, and he made all of us better for it. But more than the wins and the records, I keep thinking about Samantha, Brexton, and Lennix, and the entire Busch family right now. That’s where my heart is. Rest easy, Rowdy. The sport won’t be the same without you.”

— “I just talked to him Friday,” Clint Bowyer wrote. “In complete shock, as we all are. The devastation and sadness is beyond words. Praying for Samantha, Brexton, Lennix, his entire family and loved ones.”

— “I’m so sad and stunned to hear the news about KB,” William Byron wrote. “He meant so much to a lot of people, not just myself. Kyle was the best mentor you could ever have. He was incredibly unselfish, cared about his people and his family deeply. And helped shaped my career to what it is. I’m heartbroken.”

The daughter of mosque security guard Amin Abdullah is remembering him as the “absolute best dad in the world.” Family and community members gathered Tuesday to honour Abdullah, who was killed while confronting gunmen during the attack on a San Diego mosque.

CANNES, France — Cannes is technically half over and the hunt for a masterpiece continues. Critics on the Croisette are starting to resemble that classic comic-strip panel in which an explorer crawls desperately across the sand toward an oasis that’s only a mirage.

This far into an underwhelming festival, good films have a way of looking like great ones, such as James Gray’s “Paper Tiger,” a grimy thriller with Adam Driver and Miles Teller playing brothers in 1980s New York who get mired in a scheme to sanitize the Gowanus Canal. Driver’s ex-cop knows the codes of cutting deals with the Russian mob; Teller’s engineer is the square who can’t grasp how doing things the right way just makes the situation worse. As the normies, Teller and his naive wife, portrayed by Scarlett Johansson, feel like kids playing dress-up. (Johansson’s perm is a bit much.) Still, the script is tense and tight — and at this point, I’m happy to see anything with a plot.

Rodrigo Sorogoyen’s “The Beloved” has two of them: It’s a film within a film about a famous director (Javier Bardem) who casts his estranged actor daughter (Victoria Luengo) in his latest project. The fictional movie he’s making looks stiff, a period epic about Spain’s colonialist withdrawal from the Sahara in the 1930s, which doubles as a metaphor for the father’s destructive absence from his now-adult child’s life. A boozer, she’s not stable enough to stand up to the scrutiny of his sudden attention. Luengo herself holds the camera splendidly even in her character’s weaker moments, turning her charisma off whenever her father needs her to turn it on.

Consider it a shot and chaser to “Garance,” which stars a vibrantly sloppy Adèle Exarchopoulos as another alcoholic actress. Sharp, smartly paced and entertaining, it’s fantastic until the last stretch, which peters out and then abruptly stops.

One of the festival’s big themes seems to be connection: that we’re all stuck on this rock together and, ultimately, the difference between human and android, man and woman, is moot. At least three movies have someone saying, “That’s life,” with a shrug. The films themselves, however, are lifeless. Worse, they’re long. I can roll with movies that are mostly vibes, but only to a limit — say, 85 minutes.

Sophie Thatcher in the movie “Her Private Hell.”

(Neon)

Nicolas Winding Refn’s “Her Private Hell” is longer than that and the inertia is excruciating. The Danish director of “Drive” hasn’t made a feature film since “Neon Demon” premiered at Cannes in 2016 and this grim fairy tale feels more like a feint than a comeback. A sulky daughter (Sophie Thatcher) skulks around a misty skyscraper with her hot young stepmother (Havana Rose Liu) idly fretting about a murderer named the Leather Man. Down below, an Army private (Charles Melton) hunts the killer. Little happens other than chain-smoking, costume changes and interminable shots of color-shifting strobe lighting splaying across the cast’s cheekbones. Thankfully, Kristine Froseth adds pep as a bimbo who hasn’t yet learned how to talk as leadenly as everyone else.

Too much of the program is made up of tedious movies by beloved Cannes veterans — essentially affirmative action for auteurs. Eight years ago, Hirokazu Kore-eda won the Palme d’Or for “Shoplifters,” a chaotically enchanting portrait of a family of fraudsters. Now, he’s returned with “Sheep in the Box,” a slick and dull story about two grieving parents who adopt a clone of their dead son. “Sheep” aspires for Spielbergian catharsis — one scene seems to consider itself an art-house take on “A.I. Artificial Intelligence” — but the human characters come off as mechanical as the little robot boy. Between the musty setup and saccharine score, it’s the film equivalent of a bowl of stale candies.

Arthur Harari, who co-wrote 2023’s Palme- and Oscar-winning “Anatomy of a Fall,” is here as the director of “The Unknown,” a stilted drama about a sulky male photographer who wakes up in the body of Léa Seydoux after a nameless, wordless one-night stand. You can imagine Brian De Palma running with the sex-contagion idea (or “It Follows” director David Robert Mitchell grumbling that he deserved an inspired-by writing credit). But “The Unknown’s” shape-shifting intrigue stalls out once you realize that none of the characters have a personality to begin with. Who cares what soul is inside each shell if they’re all monotonously slack-faced? “Face/Off” it isn’t.

Léa Seydoux in the movie “The Unknown.”

(Festival de Cannes)

On that note, one emotional highlight to date was the presentation of an unannounced honorary Palme to John Travolta. (Yes, his face-swapping 1997 thriller with Nicolas Cage was in the celebratory montage.) Already bursting with passion to be world-premiering his directorial debut, “Propeller One-Way Night Coach,” Travolta was moved to tears. “Surprise complète!” Travolta gasped, kissing his trophy and blurting, “I was just happy to be here.” Indeed he was, as evident by the jaunty white beret he’d worn for the occasion, which quickly went viral on social media.

Travolta’s infectious enthusiasm carried over into the movie itself, a semi-autobiographical trifle about his childhood love of air travel. Set in 1962, a boy roughly Travolta’s age voyages from New York to Los Angeles on a series of hopping flights with his mother, who is hoping to land a rich husband or a good Hollywood role in that order. The kid’s joy is as stratospheric as the plane; he adores everything but the airline’s chicken cordon bleu. As a nostalgia piece, it’s “A Christmas Story” with a third of the jokes, none of the cynicism and not quite the length to justify itself as a movie. At barely an hour, it skedaddles in time to leave you with a sheepish smile.

Given the choice, I’d prefer to see a truly terrible movie over one that’s merely bland and mediocre. With that context, I’ve been literally raving over “Butterfly Jam,” a film so fundamentally misguided it could almost be the cineaste version of “The Room.”

Set in New Jersey, “Butterfly Jam” is a tale of toxic masculinity among braggadocious Circassian immigrants played by Barry Keoghan, Harry Melling and Riley Keough — actors who, despite their talent and effort here, are too notoriously Irish, English and Graceland-ian to be convincingly a part of a subculture this specific. It’s filmmaker Kantemir Balagov’s fault more than theirs. Despite supposedly arriving to the States as teenagers, the cast don’t even have accents, just dyed jet-black hair. While adamantly miserabilist, it does have a plot or at least one shocking plot point that’s so ghastly it made me giddy. A few scenes later, a pelican switches on a cotton candy machine with its bill, sending hot sugar whirring through the air — seriously — and I nearly applauded in delight.

Woody Harrelson and Kristen Stewart in the movie “Full Phil.”

(Festival de Cannes)

Likewise, a friend warned me against staying up through 2 a.m. for the premiere of Quentin Dupieux’s “Full Phil,” cautioning that it was the worst film they’d ever seen at Cannes in over a decade. But there was no way I’d miss watching Woody Harrelson and Kristen Stewart play a miserable father and daughter on a Parisian vacation, directed by a French oddball who rarely fails to entertain — although this time, he comes close.

The story is simple: The dad flusters, fidgets and whines; the girl gobbles room service as though aspiring to become human foie gras. “Full Phil” took about an hour to reveal its point — that parenthood makes you a glutton for punishment — and the jokes are more gestures at where a joke should be. Still, I support Harrelson and Stewart signing on to a project this cuckoo. Better still, it boasted something in short supply: a satisfying ending. Here’s hoping the festival itself ends stronger too.

Donald Gibb, the actor who played the hulking fraternity bro Ogre in “Revenge of the Nerds” and Ray “Tiny” Jackson in “Bloodsport,” has died. He was 71.

Gibb’s son Travis confirmed his father’s death to TMZ on Tuesday evening after he died earlier that day at home in Texas surrounded by family. Gibb, a former professional wrestler under the name “Don Gibb,” succumbed to “health complications,” according to his son.

A statement from the family, provided to People, described Gibb as a father, grandfather, great-grandfather, brother, uncle, friend and actor.

“Known for his larger-than-life presence on screen and his kindness off screen, he brought joy, laughter, and unforgettable memories to countless people throughout his life and career,” the statement said.

“Above all else, Donald treasured his faith and the people he loved,” it continued. “His strength, generosity, and spirit will never be forgotten by those who had the privilege of knowing him personally and by the many fans whose lives he touched over the years.”

“Bloodsport” star Jean-Claude Van Damme remembered Gibb in an Instagram story, posting a photo from 1986 and writing “Rest in peace, my brother.” He also reposted a reel showing himself and Gibb in the 1988 movie.

“Whether he was the lovable brute Ogre in Revenge of the Nerds or the fearless Ray Jackson in Bloodsport, Donald brought a heart as big as his frame to every role,” the caption on the reposted reel said. “Watching him alongside Jean-Claude Van Damme was the ultimate display of brotherhood on screen. In the clip, JCVD asks, ‘What took you so long?’ It’s a bitter-sweet reminder that while he’s gone too soon, his legacy in the martial arts and 80s cinema world is timeless. ‘Anytime, anyplace, anywhere.’”

A representative for Gibb didn’t respond immediately Wednesday to The Times’ request for comment.

Gibb had about 100 credits, including the sequels “Bloodsport” and the movie and TV sequels to “Nerds.”

Born Aug. 4, 1954, Gibb started his career in the early 1980s with uncredited roles in “Any Which Way You Can,” “Stripes” and “Conan the Barbarian.” His TV credits included episodes of “Cheers,” “MacGyver” and “The Young and the Restless.”

He acted into 2011, then tagged on one last credit, for the 2026 movie release “Hands.” According to IMDb, that filmed sometime in 2023 or 2024.

It’s early in the morning, and Birmingham baseball coach Matt Mowry is at the supermarket looking through the flowers section before classes begin. He’s engaged in an unseen, often undervalued duty as a coach — providing comfort to players and their families.

One of his players, 16-year-old sophomore outfielder JJ Rodriguez, lost his father, Anthony, 53, on a Saturday morning last month when he died in his sleep at home. Mowry is looking for a bouquet of flowers to present to JJ’s mother, Nancy, before his first game back.

There are no easy answers how to help a family dealing with grief. Mowry went through his own tragedy in 2022 when his wife, Amy, died of cancer. He prays for her before each game, looking up to the sky while grasping his wife’s necklace, then kissing a ring that has her fingerprint tattooed on it.

The message Mowry told JJ: “Times are going to be tough There’s moments you’re going to break down. It’s OK. You don’t have to hide it.”

The reason No. 1-seeded Birmingham doesn’t open the City Section Open Division baseball playoffs until Thursday is because Anthony’s funeral is Wednesday, and players and coaches will be there to provide support.

Anthony Rodriguez, the father of Birmingham baseball player JJ Rodriguez, died last month.

(Eric Sondheimer / Los Angeles)

JJ missed a couple days of school and one game after his father’s death. He wanted to be alone and was skeptical about coming back any time soon.

“He would message me and tell me coming here and being around my teammates would make me more comfortable and get my mind off things,” JJ said of Mowry. “I wanted to be alone a little bit because my mind was not in the right place. But the day I came back, I learned these guys are my family.”

JJ has become an important part of his team, starting in left field while batting No. 9 in the order. The Patriots won their first West Valley League title in 20 years and are trying to win their sixth City title under Mowry.

JJ and his mother have appreciated the emotional support, allowing them to try to heal from their sorrow.

His mother told him, “Be strong for everyone else. Your dad will always be proud of you.”

There’s a candle in the room where his father was found.

“I sometimes go there and be alone at night and talk to myself,” he said.

Before games, JJ says a prayer and thinks of his father.

“Every game,” he said. “It’s for you, Dad.”

On May 23, the City final will take place at Dodger Stadium.

Imagine the thrill for players of the two teams who reach the final. They’ll get to walk the infield, put some grass in their pockets, look up into the stands, hang out in the dugout of the two-time defending world champions.

For JJ, his father won’t be able to watch him. Or maybe he will. Every day is a step forward to healing. It’s hard, but he’s got a coach watching over him.

“I talked to him about what my son went through in the same situation,” Mowry said. “I had him get back out with the guys and be there whether he practiced or played.”

JJ is back and thankful to his baseball family.